


A Force to be Reckoned With

by orphan_account



Category: Orphan Black (TV), Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: AU, Fluff, Jaeger Pilots, Multi, Pacific Rim AU, alternative universe, cophine - Freeform, long fic, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1790626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orphan Black Pacific Rim AU - a possible advance in Jaeger technology needs a group of pilots with certain ... similarities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 - Sarah

Chapter 1 - Sarah  
‘I hope you appreciate the potential here.’

‘Believe me lieutenant, I do.’

‘The concordance rates for identical twins and drift compatibility are high, but Hendrix and Childs are unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and you’re telling me there are more of them?’

‘Yes sir, four viable candidates at this time; Manning, Niehaus, Duncan and, well…’

‘Yes, I understand there are some issues there.’

‘They all have issues sir, Helena is the tip of the iceberg. Duncan, for example, is the head of a multi-national biotech conglomerate. She’s going to take some convincing to put on a suit. Niehaus is spear-heading the US division of Kaiju research over in San Francisco, she made the ammonia-distillation reduction breakthrough of last year.’

‘And Manning?’

‘Sir, she already has a co-pilot.’

…..

The Jaeger ducked the enormous creatures thrust, then returned the favour with an enthusiastic upper cut, snapping the beast’s bulbous head back with an ear-rending crack. The robot took a step back and then fired a rapid succession of blasts from its palm cannon, sending it reeling. Finally, with apparent glee that seemed at odds with the suit’s fortress like bulk, delivered a roundhouse kick, the thirty-foot blade on its heel severing the Kaiju’s head from its body and sent it tumbling through the air, causing a mini tidal wave as it landed in the shallow water of the cove. The titan turned and began pounding its way back to base, pausing only to give a resounding self-five.

‘This is Ranger Felix to base, Ranger Felix to base, how are you my lovelies?’

‘Please keep airwave broadcasts to standard codes.’

‘Sorry chaps, Ranger Sarah reports successful drop for Jaeger London Calling, reporting to base pronto.’

‘Have champagne and strawberries ready for us, yeah?’

‘Transmission received, Rangers. Just get back in one piece. Over and out.’

‘Over and out.’

…..

They may have only been adopted siblings, but Felix Dawkins and Sarah Manning certainly had a resemblance. They moved in unison, strolling down the Thunderdome corridors with an easy, swaggering grace, and while their faces were little alike they’re sardonic grins matched perfectly. Raised by the legendary Commander S., the two were tested for drift compatibility as children, and ever since then they had been walking the perfect balance between massive disregard for protocol and near perfect Kaiju take-downs that allowed them to scrape through every official warning and temporary suspension by the skin of their teeth. They were the closes thing the Jaeger program had to mythical heroes, maintaining a low profile and avoiding the media attention that usually accompanied their level of success. That’s why Sarah was surprised to find a lab-coat wearing ponce and two-suited Rangers waiting for her in her bunk.

‘Oi, what’s this all about?’ she asked, irritated by the disruption to her plans for the evening – beer, curry and a really long bath.

‘Sarah Manning?’

‘Depends who’s asking.’ The man chuckled. 

‘Miss Manning, you have been identified as a candidate for an … escalation of the Jaeger program.’

‘Me and Fee you mean?’

‘While Mr. Dawkins would be welcome to come along, you are uniquely suited to the nature of the task.’

‘Oh? And why is that?’ Rather than responding, the man gestured to the two sentinels behind him. As one, they removed their helmets and revealed their faces. ‘Holy shite.’

…..

‘How come I didn’t know you had sisters?’

‘I didn’t even know Fee, I don’t think anyone knew.’

‘It’s creepy though. I mean, on the one hand you’re so alike, but on the other hand…’

‘I want to know who wears a pink alice-band when she goes out to fight aliens.’

‘See, that I actually can support.’

‘Yeah, and I completely trust your fashion sense.’

‘Cheeky.’

‘What the hell kind of a Jaeger name is Glue-Gunner anyway?’

…..

The flight was long and uncomfortable, and Sarah refused to even acknowledge the two women who shared her face sat at the other end of the cabin. Eventually, they touched down in Port Hardy base, a freezing wind whipping the ocean into twenty-foot cliffs of frigid foam. Ethan, as the lab-coat had insisted they called him, led them deep into the labyrinthine base, refusing to even acknowledge Fee and Sarah’s questions with anything other than an ‘all will be revealed’. 

Eventually they reached a room with a brass plaque on the door – EXPERIMENTAL DIVISION: BRIEFING ROOM. Inside, three more women sat, and Sarah let out an audible groan as she realised that, yep, they sure looked familiar. Closest to her sat a blonde, her posture so perfect she looked a little like a mannequin, who seemed to be idly checking her phone, but broadcast the kind of awareness that made her seem like a cobra about to strike. Across the conference table from her, so relaxed and loose that Sarah suspected that she might be mocking the cold woman’s demeanour, sat a woman with dreadlocks and glasses, who drummed her hands on the table as she shifted in her chair, her eyes roaming across the room and meeting with Sarah’s, who she shot a wide and toothy grin. Finally, in the far corner, sat a figure so closed into herself that Sarah might not have recognised her in different circumstances. The hood of her jacket pulled close around her face and her knees drawn up too her chest, she was broadcasting ‘don’t touch me’ vibes on every frequency. 

The fourth figure, standing with her back to the group and examining a map pinned to the wall, turned to greet them, and Sarah was relieved to see someone she didn’t recognise from the mirror, even if she didn’t look exactly friendly. 

‘Is this everyone Ethan?’ She asked in a clipped tone. He nodded his assent, and she launched into what was clearly a rehearsed speech.

‘My name is Marion Bowles, and I would like to welcome you, ladies and gentleman, to Operation Synchronicity, the greatest leap forward in Jaeger technology since the neural hand-shake was first initiated. One of the greatest problems faced by the programme is the lack of teamwork between multiple Jaegers, we believe that increased communication and unity will allow to deal far more effectively with any threat that the Kaiju pose. Which is where you come in. As you may have noticed, you all share a striking resemblance, which has a simple explanation. You are sisters, completely genetically identical, in fact, separated at birth after your mother found caring for such a large group,’ the manicured woman paused for a moment, ‘unfeasible.’

 

‘Identical sextuplets?’ asked the dreadlocked woman, clearly interrupting Marion’s flow, ‘sorry, but statistically that’s like, woah, you know? Like getting struck by lightning and winning the lottery on the same day.’

‘Indeed, Dr. Niehaus. And in many ways, you are our lottery win. Your unique relation, accompanied by the experience many of you hold makes you perfect for this operation. Simply put, we wish to create a further, overarching neurological bridge between pairs of Jaeger pilots, so that three, or possibly four, Jaegers can drift together, working as one unstoppable killing machine.’

This last sentence was delivered with previously unheard fervour, and was met by a few brief moments stunned silence before the room exploded into uproar.

‘If you think I’m letting one of these bitches into my head – ‘

‘I already have a co-pilot thank you very –‘

‘I’m not even related to any-‘

‘The theoretical energy load required would be –‘

The coated woman and blonde bob both said nothing, but Sarah saw a smirk and slight shake from the one still watching her phone that showed she felt the same way.

Marion waited until the arguments had run their course, before addressing their concerns.

‘Hendrix, Childs, Manning and Dawkins, you will of course be allowed to keep your current co-pilot, you will simply have heightened awareness of the other Jaegers, Dr Niehaus, I recognise your concerns and I will of course give time to look over all the science personally, in fact I insist you do while we determine whom you are most compatible with, and as for you Miss Duncan, I’m afraid your participation is not optional, which you should be all too aware of.’

A flash of irritation broke the perfect blankness of her (Duncan’s?) face, but she simply shrugged and responded, in a slow voice heavy with upper-class English disdain, ‘you can certainly keep me here, but no power will force me to let one of these,’ she gazed around the room, ‘people inside my head.’

‘If that’s how you feel, we can only hope that Dr. Niehaus and Helena here prove a good match.’ Marion responded curtly, ‘and request your expertise as a strategist from mission control.’ Rachel merely returned her gaze to her phone, and began to type out a message.


	2. Chapter 2 - Cosima

Chapter 2 - Cosima

Cosima was excited. 

Understatement.

Cosima was dizzy, ecstatic and completely overwhelmed. In less than a day she had gained five (five!) new sisters and become part of a huge government mission thingy. Which she was before, but, you know, whatever. This was much cooler. The labs at Port Hardy were huge, she had found out that the multi-Jaeger neural link was based partially on her designs for reduced cognitive dissonance and she was going to be a Jaeger pilot. Jaeger Pilots were, as far as she was concerned, the coolest people pretty much ever. They were essentially real life superheroes, heck she had action figures of both London Calling and Glue-Gunner despite the media-shy tendencies of their pilots. Not that she played with them. Much. Recently. 

Cosima couldn’t wait till the clock inched round to three, when the medical bay would be free to test the drift compatibility of her and her new sister Helena. She had tried to pre-empt the process by striking up a conversation, but she got the feeling that maybe she didn’t speak much English. Or she was shy. Or both. Or some other reason. It didn’t matter. Soon they would be in each other’s heads. 

…..

The room was bustling with activity when she was finally let in, there must have been more than fifty people crammed into the tiny space, adjusting cables and scrutinising monitors. Helena sat, curled into a foetal position in the chair, her back to Cosima, electrodes attached to her temples leading to the central control panel. Cosima figured she must be nervous, she was feeling butterflies herself. She allowed herself to be strapped in, wired up and prodded by a porcupine of needles until she started to feel sorry for any animal she had used as a subject. Finally, it was time to begin.

Initiating neural handshake in 3.

2.

1.

The jolt felt like being punched in the brain. Nothing Cosima could see made any sense. Her viewpoint shunted from side to side. She was falling. No buried. No flying. Sudden flashes of emotion. A high whining noise. A searing pain in her throat, her hands. Rage. Terror. A short blast of music. Falling again. Images. Smells. She was starving hungry. A face that she hated. An icy cold room. Ecstatic Joy. Slipping. Drowning. 

She couldn’t breathe. 

She couldn’t.

She.

…..

When she came to, Cosima was surrounded by sympathetic, condescending faces. It took her a moment to work out what happened.

‘I, did I?’ Her throat was dry and parched. Someone, she couldn’t see who, could not yet distinguish one face from the sea surrounding her, pressed a glass of water into her hand and she drank it greedily, focusing on the sensation of the condensation under the tips of fingers. She took a deep breath and tried again. ‘Did I do something wrong?’

Glances from the scientists, an uncomfortable silence. ‘No, honey, of course not’ said one, eventually, the patronising tone answering Cosima’s question. She had failed. She had set the program back, she wasn’t cut out to be a Jaeger pilot. She tried not to let the anger she felt at herself, at her own weakness, show on her face as she stood up.

‘I’m going to my room,’ she announced, ‘bunk, whatever. That place.’ An arm reached out to steady her on her shaky legs but she pulled away. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, unconvincingly, ‘honestly. I’m just going to go sleep.’ She managed to walk away in a straight line, and they let her go, she could already here the whispers start as she left. Practically designed the tech and can’t even handle a simple drift. It was embarrassing. 

She was intending to head to the sterile room designated as her bunk, but she wasn’t focusing on her feet, and instead found herself walking into the lab she had been working in earlier. Fortunately it was empty and, alone at last, Cosima let go, hot tears pouring from her eyes as the shame of what had happened overwhelmed her. She knew that she was an ugly crier, but at this point she didn’t care, she slumped at the test bench and wallowed in self-pity for a little while.

She was interrupted rather too soon by the beeping of the electronic door as someone swiped their pass-card. Desperately, she tried to make herself presentable, but only really got as far as wiping her streaming nose on the sleeve of her jacket before a woman entered. Tall, blonde and gorgeous, she moved with an easy grace that meant, if she had not been wearing a lab coat and carrying a tray of petri dishes, Cosima might have mistaken her for a dancer. In short, she was exactly the sort of person you didn’t want to see you crying alone in a lab, your makeup smeared across your face and all your ambitions in ruins around you. Oh well. C’est la vie.

‘Oh!,’ the woman said as she spotted Cosima, ‘I am sorry, I thought everyone would be at the drift test so I …’ she trailed off, depriving Cosima of more of that delicious French accent, as she noticed the state of the woman she was addressing. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Um, yeah.’ The lie was pointless. ‘Yeah, I’m good. The, um, drift test is over though. Obvs.’

The other woman frowned in confusion, but then something must have clicked because her face flashed with recognition and she closed the rest of the space between them

‘Bonjour Dr Niehaus. I am Dr Cormier, Delphine, I helped design the multi-Jaeger bridge, it is an honour to meet you, to be working with you.’

‘Yeah, well, don’t speak too soon. I’m probably going to be sent home. I failed the first test, so. Yeah.’

‘I’m not sure I understand.’

‘I couldn’t drift, with Helena I mean. I blacked out. Sensory overload. So I guess I’m going home.’

Dr Cormier still looked confused. ‘Dr Niehaus…’ she began.

‘Cosima.’

‘Cosima, just because you are not drift compatible with Helena does not mean you can’t pilot a Jaeger, and even if you can’t pilot a Jaeger it does not mean you cannot help the programme. Mon Dieu, you practically built it!’

‘I just assumed, I mean, we’re sisters so we should…’ Delphine made a noise that Cosima could only describe as a scoff. 

‘I told them that while familial ties can boost the strength of a neural handshake individual mitigating factors… the relationship between you and your sisters will make joining multiple Jaegers possible, but there’s no reason one of them needs to be your drift partner. Aussi, if you could not bond with Helena, the problem may well be at her end. You have done nothing wrong Cosima.’

Cosima tried to regain her composure, removed from the event she was starting to recognise how hasty her conclusions had been.

‘Thank you, Dr Cormier.’

‘Delphine,’ she repeated, reaching out to touch Cosima’s hand. It was a friendly gesture, but the skin contact sent a shiver of electricity through Cosima’s whole body. Shit. 

…..

Cosima had never met anyone like Delphine. They sat in the lab together for what felt like half an hour, only for Cosima to glance at a clock and see it was past midnight. They had been talking about nothing and everything, comparing favourites, life stories, theories and stupid jokes. Frankly, Cosima was amazed at how well they got on, they had little in common. Cosima grew up as an only child, but always wanted sisters, luckily enough, whereas Delphine was the youngest of five, the only girl. Cosima had entered into the sciences following in the footsteps of her parents, both research biologists who specialised in Kaiju anatomy but Delphine had gone against her parent’s wishes when she studied neuro-anatomy, they had wanted her to go to Juilliard, apparently she had been a child-prodigy violinist. Cosima had had a laid-back upbringing, as typical San Franciscans her parents hadn’t minded what she got up to as long as she kept her grades high and didn’t get hurt, but from what Delphine said about her parents they seemed majorly scary. 

Despite all this, or perhaps because of it, Cosima found it increasingly easy to be honest with her, something about the sweet and open nature of that beautiful face made Delphine a perfect audience for whispered late-night secrets. 

‘Why were you so upset, when you thought you couldn’t be a Jaeger pilot?’ asked Delphine. They were curled together on a couch back in Delphine’s room that they’d been forced to go to after the lab was shut down for the night in the small hours. Exhaustion, combined with half of the room-temperature bottle of white wine Delphine had pulled from her locker had wiped away the last of the two women’s inhibitions, and Cosima no longer felt nervous about how close the French woman was to her, the smooth plain of milk-white skin that softened the edges of her collar-bones rippling with movement as she breathed. Cosima tried to put the idea that at any moment she could reach over and plant hungry kisses in the hollow of her throat, one hand tangling in those golden curls as she tasted the woman’s skin, marking it as her’s as she travelled the sweet length of her body. 

Focus Cosima.

What was the question.

‘I guess I always wanted to be a pilot,’ she replied recovering quickly, ‘but also… I had never really failed before, you know? There had never been anything that I wanted to do, that had been within reach that I hadn’t been able to achieve. I guess I don’t know how to cope.’

‘Well, I’m glad you can’t cope.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence!’ Cosima spluttered.

‘Non! I am sorry! I mean, I am glad that it happened, because otherwise I would not have had the chance to meet you.’ Without allowing her thoughts to grab hold and paralyse her, Cosima leaned in and kissed Delphine, stilling her soft lips. Delphine responded to the touch, kissing back with a strength that seemed at odds with her delicate nature, but as Cosima opened her mouth and allowed her tongue to ease across her gums she pulled away.

‘Cosima…’ she began, and her tone revealed everything. Cosima pulled further away, struggled to her feet, suddenly mortified. 

‘Oh God.’ She muttered, mostly to herself, ‘I just assumed. Sorry. I guess. I should have asked. I should have, I don’t know. I’m sorry.’

‘Cosima.’ Delphine said again, but she waved a hand to silence her.

‘Its fine. It’s getting late. I’m tired, I should go. I’m sorry.’ She was out of the door before Delphine could make another sound. Mortified. She curled in a ball under the blankets in her bunk and felt tears crowd her vision for the second time that day, eventually slipping into restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Helena and Cosima were compatible what would their Jaeger be called?


	3. Chapter 3 - Alison

Alison had thought that she had a perfect life. A stimulating and worthwhile career (beating the heck out of giant aliens), a loving husband and family (that she got to see almost every other weekend, usually) and a best friend that really got her (as well as being, of course, her estranged identical twin sister). Sure, it may not be the most traditional lifestyle, but it had value and structure, and anyway she was extremely modern and receptive to change.

Then they had all entered the scene. 

Cosima, who when she wasn’t poking around with bits of Kaiju brain in the lab was being almost aggressively friendly and welcoming, who wasn’t even compatible with the program for goodness sake so why was she still here? 

Rachel, who was one of the first people Alison had ever met who actually managed to make her feel inferior, who refused to speak to any of her sisters, who spent her entire time trying to run a business empire from her pokey private quarters.

Helena, who Alison hadn’t even seen since that first meeting, but who inspired rumours of extraction from secret prisons and painting her walls with blood.

And then there was Sarah. 

Alison had assumed they might have something in common, they were both experienced pilots and, she was shocked to learn when she was finally allowed access to her personnel file (why the secrecy, they were supposed to be a team), mothers. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, the Londoner set her teeth on edge. There was no responsibility, no care in her work, she never showed up for training on time, and when she and that brother of hers sauntered in it was usually to mess about and criticize Alison’s battle strategies. 

She had tried talking through the irritations with Beth, of course, but found she could only really explain it all when they were one, in the drift, when words were unnecessary. Those moments, of perfect one-ness with another human, were what kept Alison going through all the frustration. She needed to be a part of this team.

…..

All this is why, when the alarm sounded and they leapt out of bed and suited up, Alison was actually happy. Obviously she wasn’t happy, that would be sick, people could die. Maybe she was a little happy. This was a chance to demonstrate all her training, her skill, her connection with Beth – in short everything that made her stand out, that made her different to all those other women who shared her face. They were the pair that had been chosen. Obviously they were the pair that were to be trusted. 

Or not. When she and Beth arrived at the briefing room they were already there, lounging against the wall like they hadn’t a care in the world. No, that wasn’t quite true. There was a certain intensity about the both of them, but Sarah especially, that Alison knew all too well. This was important to her, she really did care about this mission.

Ethan hurried in in a swirl of papers, a mug of tea clutched in one hand, spilling everything out onto the large table in the centre of the room. ‘I hope you all feel prepared.’ He said, trying to shuffle the documents back into some kind of order, giving up and taking a huge swig from his cup instead, ‘we’re going to be assessing your fighting styles today, oh and of course you’re needed to protect the world from invasion. Usual stuff. Nervous?’

Alison briskly shook her head as the others made various motions and noises. She wasn’t nervous, she was completely prepared for anything this situation could throw at her. 

She fell into step beside Beth as they jogged down the long corridor that led to their drop point, their strides perfectly matched. They slipped into the Jaeger head and allowed themselves to be strapped in by the ever-present technicians, but soon they were alone. Well, not alone. In a blazing instant they were linked, neurological-bridge stretching between them allowing them perfect and precise synchronicity. Alison wondered what it would feel like to do this with two, four, six other people would feel like, what it was going to feel like to let those strangers into her head. Sensing her nervousness, Beth sent a reassuring nudge, get your head in the game Hendrix.

It felt like a game, if she was honest. Glue Gunner was big, the heaviest mark 4 Jaeger ever made, it was half-jokingly referred to as the tank. They were often criticised for the slow speed, the weighty movement, but it all felt worth it when they lined up a perfect shot and sent off a volley of shots that could pulverise bone and muscle and leave nothing left standing. Today, though, Alison saw their point. London Calling had dropped at the same time as them, but already it was streaking ahead, slender body cutting through the waves, wrist blades already engaged, Alison knew enough of their technique to tell that Manning and Dawkins liked to get up close and personal with whatever it was they were killing. 

It was a touch embarrassing, to have them take out the target without loosing a single shot, and as one she and Beth pulled the robot to a halt, took brief but careful aim, then deployed their centre cannon. The energy pulse sent a twenty-foot high wave across the water, and even from this distance Alison saw it hit its mark, knocking the Kaiju backwards so that the other Jaeger’s first strike fell short. 

Alison had not, of course intended to make the competition look stupid but, you know, happy accidents. They had closed the distance now, and goodness gracious this was an unpleasant looking monster, thick spines radiated from its face in every direction, which the two British pilots had made excellent use of, grabbing hold a repeatedly smashing the alien’s face in a manner Alison could only assume indicated some extremely repressed aggression. 

Engaged as they were with the face smashing, the other Jaeger didn’t notice the beast’s colossal tail rising up to meet them. With an identical smirk, Beth and Alison released a barrage of rockets that obliterated the offending appendage, just in time for London Calling to deliver a nimble killing blow, decapitating the thing with near surgical precision.

As she told her kids over the phone that evening, it was a great day at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And following this disappointing instalment I am putting this fic on hiatus - for now ... I'm going to go back to writing one-shots for prompts, so leave me one of those if you fancy, and one day I might actually finish this


End file.
